


Not So Interested

by Espereth



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Community: asscreedkinkmeme, M/M, Novices, Oldzio, Parkour, Recruitment, Smartass Recruit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espereth/pseuds/Espereth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezio's latest recruitment attempt in Roma doesn't go quite as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Interested

From a courtyard near the old Roman ruins came the familiar sounds of Borgia guards delivering a beating. 

"Southern trash." Metal struck metal, and scraped. 

"Go home to your farm." A thunk, and a grunt of pain.

"You're going to squeal. Just like your wife did at first." Coarse laughter. "And you're going to regret ever raising steel against Cesare Borgia's men."

Ezio Auditore da Firenze, on a nearby rooftop, took the first guard by surprise with his crossbow. The fool certainly looked surprised, eyes rolling up and mouth open as the crossbow bolt struck him in the middle of his forehead. The second and third guards fell as Ezio leaped down into the courtyard, using their bodies to break his fall, hidden blades buried in their throats. 

The citizen took the last guard as the fool circled Ezio. The guard seemed to have forgotten all about the man he and his friends had just been pummelling - so it was a simple matter for the citizen to get behind him and slit his throat, which he did efficiently and without hesitation.

Ezio sheathed his blades and looked the citizen over. He liked what he saw. Tall, slim, twentyish. Dark hair, brown eyes, roguish stubble. All that, and could use a blade, too.

He _really_ liked what he saw.

" _Imbecile._ " The citizen spat on one of the bodies. "I don't have a wife." 

_Excellent_ , thought Ezio. "Are you hurt, _amico_?"

The younger man touched his nose, feeling for blood, and shrugged. "I don't think so. They were just starting." He began to search the bodies, taking weapons and pocketing money and anything else of value.

"What's your name?" Ezio said. "Let me take you back to -"

"No. Thank you. I have to work in the morning."

"You don't want to - ahh -" Ezio pushed back his hood and ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't been prepared for this. 

_This is the part where you kneel and declare for the Assassins. Look earnestly up at me. Beg me to teach you how to fight the Borgia. That's... what they all do._

"Listen." Ezio caught him by the arm. God, it was so much easier with the girls. He did his best to make his eyes compelling, mysterious, dangerous but kind at the same time. He watched the younger man's face, gauging his reaction. "Perhaps you don't know who I am."

The younger man shook him off. "Oh, I know who you are. The guards were only chasing me because I stole from them. I'm not so interested in the rebellion." 

_...Not so interested?_

"But the guard said that you -"

"Raised steel against Cesare Borgia's men? Of course I did. They were trying to kill me."

"Ahh - in that case -"

"I should be off. Thank you very much for killing those _stronzi_." The youth bowed theatrically. "I would have got away, but this way I get to keep their money too. All in all, a fine evening." He turned to go.

"Wait," Ezio said.

"What?"

"Do you - ahh - do you know La Volpe?"

"La Volpe? _You_ know La Volpe?" That had his attention. If he wouldn't join the Assassins, perhaps the Thieves could do something with him. And perhaps Ezio would see him around the inn and have a second chance. He'd certainly managed to fuck up this first one.

"Yes, I know La Volpe." Ezio sighed inwardly. This was not going the way he had planned. "Let me buy you a drink, and we can talk."

***

In the end Ezio did not take him to _La Volpe Addormentata_. He wanted to establish some things before he let the young thief meet his hero.

For his part, the thief - who gave his name as Ciro Cavallari - did not care where he was. He was happy to sit and drink wine at Ezio's expense. He believed all of the most ridiculous myths about the old fox - who, in person, was quite ordinary! Ezio drank his wine and propped his chin on his hand, listening to Ciro rattle off the usual "facts". 

La Volpe could steal anything from anyone, and see through walls. La Volpe robbed the Pope in the Papal carriage, in broad daylight, and nobody noticed. La Volpe was immortal. La Volpe could run and climb forever without tiring. 

I can do _that_ , thought Ezio, tuning out from the young man's rambling tales of adoration to look him over. The inn was warm, and Ciro had unlaced the collar of his shirt, showing a hint of the sparse hair on his chest. The skin over the young thief's collarbone glowed with a faint sheen of sweat. Ezio imagined running his tongue along that fine collarbone, and tasting salt. 

"...La Volpe can climb to the roof of the Palazzo Medici," said Ciro Cavallari. "It is said he was there, and on top of the Palazzo della Signoria, and on top of -"

_On top of your mother, smartarse_ , thought Ezio, but kept that to himself. "I know, I know,” he said instead. “On top of the Basilica at Santa Croce. All at the same time. Think about what you're saying - no man can be in three places at once! It was probably just on the same night."

"Have _you_ climbed the Medici palace?" Ciro's brown eyes narrowed as he smiled. His sleeves were rolled up over his elbows, showing wiry brown arms and strong hands. He was a little on the skinny side, but his back was straight, his shoulders square. And that smirk. No wonder the guards had wanted to smack him about. Ezio would not be surprised if he could start a fight just by looking at a man, with that insolent expression on his face. He needed to be slammed against a wall and kissed. Among other things.

"Well -" Ezio swallowed a mouthful of wine. "I've been on the roof. Yes."

"You climbed from the outside?"

"...No."

"Then how did you get up there?"

"There are - certain chambers on the third floor on the eastern side. It doesn't matter. I can climb anything La Volpe can."

The thought of exactly how the old fox had got on top of the Palazzo Medici had never occurred to Ezio before. Lorenzo had never mentioned him. But then, Lorenzo had never mentioned lots of things.

"I don't know about that," Ciro said, draining his mug. He signalled for more wine. "La Volpe is said to have the agility of a young man in his prime."

Ezio had had enough. He stood up.

" _Il Colosseo_ ," he said.

"What about it?"

"We race to the top."

Ciro laughed. "If you want. How much have you had to drink, Ezio Auditore?"

_Cheeky brat._

Ciro Cavallari _really_ needed to be taught a lesson. 

***

They crossed the moonlit Antico district on foot.

Ciro had sharp eyes. He was good at spotting the armed Borgia search parties that roamed the countryside, and he was good at avoiding them, too. He could move silently and melt into shadow. There were several moments when Ezio lost sight of him. He wondered if the thief could be made to see sense about the need to take up arms against the Borgia. He was daring, intelligent, athletic – he would make a fine assassin.

_If only you could trust him as far as you could throw him_ , Ezio reminded himself.

A distant howl echoed across from the ruins, suggesting a pack of the Followers of Romulus. Ciro turned his head in the direction of the noise, alert as a hunted fox, but there was no fear in his eyes as they glittered in moonlight. 

_I would like to see La Volpe slay ten of those crazy bastards in as many seconds_ , Ezio thought grumpily. He might look for their lair, later. 

Assassin and thief reached the north-east part of the Antico district, and stood in the moon shadow of the Colosseum. 

Ezio rested a hand on Ciro's shoulder and pointed to the highest part of the structure - the still-standing north segment of the ancient amphitheatre's outermost wall. "Reach the east end of the highest wall," he said to the young man.

“Easily done,” said Ciro. “But I thought you wanted to challenge me.”

"You had best watch your step, Ciro Cavallari." Ezio smiled. “That is only the first part of our race. After that, go down through the centre tier and touch the ground where the banners and the _crocifisso_ stand. Then, climb up again – the winner is the first man on the westernmost end of the second-storey walkway.”

"If you say so.” Ciro shrugged. “Are we going to climb, or just talk all night?"

They looked at each other, and sprinted for the stone walls.

***

Ezio ran up the stone column between two arches at ground level and jumped. The momentum carried him up several feet, through which he barely used his arms except to steady himself. 

Instinct guided him to each handhold and he lost himself in the pure joy of climbing. He breathed deeply and smelled moss and ancient stone. He felt that he could climb blind if he had to.

A few climb-leaps in quick succession, and he pulled himself up onto the walkway of the third storey. He ran east a few paces, his arms and hands glad of the relief; then he swung himself out through an archway, back onto the stone facade to climb again.

Here the texture of the wall alternated between limestone and newer brickwork. Climbing fast, Ezio reached one of the square windows on the fourth and highest level of the wall. He quickly edged his body east, to where he knew the overhanging ledge that ran around the top of the wall had collapsed. This way, he would not have to deal with hoisting himself up over the overhang. It was more dangerous - his hands loosened crumbling stone more than once – but it was faster. He pulled himself up on top of the Colosseum, and crouched.

An eagle circled overhead and Ezio felt that all was right. For a moment it was as though he saw from the eagle's eyes, piercing and predatory, aware of everything that moved. When the moment passed, he couldn't see Ciro, but he knew where he was. 

The thief had elected to sprint east along the ground before climbing, and he was now directly below their first landmark. Ciro was much closer to it than Ezio, but he still had to climb – and manage the overhang at the top – while Ezio had only to run.

Ezio sprinted along the narrow wall, balancing easily. It felt as smooth as flying. His feet touched the easternmost point of the wall just as Ciro swung his thin body up over the ledge. The young thief's face was lit with that same joy that Ezio felt – instead of Ciro's usual smirk it was honest exhilaration. Ezio was breathing hard, but – he was happy to see – no harder than Ciro Cavallari. They both looked at each other, grinning like boys. Ezio tagged Ciro playfully on his wiry upper arm, then dropped along the inside face of the wall. 

He caught a handhold, quickly glanced below, and dropped again, safe in the knowledge that his body would obey him. He could still do anything he needed to do; he always could. The drop was not far, now, and he let go.

His landing was perfect, the impact absorbed as he crouched. He didn't pause, but began to run, leaping and landing and balancing his way down through the inner skeleton of the amphitheatre, through the massive framework of arches, broken columns and makeshift scaffolding.

Ezio reached the soft ground only a moment before Ciro. There was only one stretch left of their race. He calmed his breathing and launched himself for the final stretch. He ran up the side of a low brick wall, braced his foot and launched himself backwards, springing high into the air and turning as he did so. It was a trick La Volpe had taught him, so many years ago, and he used all the height he gained to reach a handhold on the innermost circle of arches, and kept running.

Up, over, down, his movements elegant and simple, efficient. He knew how to use the least amount of effort to gain the maximum force. From the corner of his eye he saw Ciro below him, following with his daring style. He could probably run faster than Ezio, but ultimately he was no match for Ezio's precision and trained economy of motion. 

And, thought Ezio, reaching their finishing point with a deep sense of satisfaction, Ciro was no match for his endurance. 

By the time Ciro caught up, he was struggling for breath, while Ezio was breathing quickly but quite calmly. 

The scene was familiar, echoing one from Ezio's youth in Firenze. He had been convinced La Volpe had some supernatural power, to run and jump so quickly – but there was nothing otherworldly about it. It was skill – knowing how to do the least necessary to get the greatest result. 

Ciro wiped sweat from his forehead and stared at Ezio in amazement, gasping for air. 

“I've never seen anybody climb like that,” he said. There was no trace of that smart-arsed smirk on his face now. Ezio took both of Ciro's hands, and the boy looked at him in awe. “How - you're so fast, I – and you're not even -”

Ezio drew him closer, smiling, watching his eyes. _This is better_ , he thought. _A fine evening indeed_.

“ _You_ ,” said Ciro. “You are La Volpe. You must be.”

***

Later, when Ezio reflected on his swift reaction to this statement, he would feel both smug and ashamed.

“I suppose you were bound to find out sooner or later,” he said with a shrug.

But mostly smug. 

Dazed with exertion and hero-worship, Ciro Cavallari did not object when Ezio backed him against the nearest wall, cupped his face and kissed him. He let Ezio push his tongue into his mouth, gasping as the Assassin slid long fingers through his sweat-tangled hair. 

Working a knee between his legs, Ezio felt the younger man's cock hard against his thigh, and smiled into his mouth. 

“What's this,” he whispered, brushing the thief's erection through his breeches with light fingers and making him moan, a mix of pleasure and anxiety in the noise. Ezio pushed his own erection against Ciro's so that their cocks touched through their clothes. Ciro rested hands still shaking from the efforts of their race on Ezio's hips and fought to steady himself, breathing rapidly. 

"I've imagined this," Ciro gasped, "Ever since I heard of you." He pulled Ezio closer and kissed him again, drawing Ezio's tonge deep into his mouth. Ezio felt the sparse hair on the younger man's upper lip, tasted salt-sweat. "God," Ciro said, between moans of pleasure. "I never believed I would meet you."

Ezio did not slow down. He pulled Ciro's shirt free of his breeches and trailed his fingers down the flat, hard belly, through the trail of damp dark hair under the young man's navel. He moved his mouth to Ciro's throat, kissing and sucking and biting, his mouth quick and hungry. He nuzzled into the younger man's neck, murmuring with pleasure at the taste of his flushed skin.

Unbuckling his belt frantically, Ciro stared into Ezio's eyes. "Here," he whispered, taking Ezio's hand to thrust it inside his breeches. Ezio felt for Ciro's cock, found it hard and ready. He took it in his hand, stroking it with skilled, firm fingers, and felt it harden even more as Ciro arched his back against the stone wall. Then Ezio flipped the thief around, pressing him face-first against the wall, and dragged the young man's breeches down to bare his ass. 

Pulling out his own cock, Ezio pressed his hard length along the cleft of Ciro's ass. 

“No man has done this to you before,” he murmured into the young thief's ear. With one hand, he stroked Ciro's cock; with the other, he pinned the younger man firmly against the wall by his upper arm. “Hm?”

“-No – never,” Ciro gasped. His fingers gripped the bricks as he struggled to steady himself. 

Ezio rubbed his cock between warm, firm cheeks and kissed Ciro's ear, slipping his tongue into the hole and making him shiver.

“Then I shouldn't,” Ezio said. He thumbed the head of Ciro's cock and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. 

“Ah – God -” Ciro thrust into his hand, then back against his cock. “You cannot stop now!”

Ezio laughed against his throat. “I suspect you are right,” he said, and slicked two fingers with his mouth. 

Ciro cried out when the first wet fingertip pressed into him, and Ezio forced himself to pause just long enough to let him adjust to the strange sensation. Then he eased the finger inside, deeper and deeper, feeling Ciro's thin body tense under him. He drew out, eliciting a confused moan from Ciro, before penetrating again with both slippery fingers, pushing them them in firmly to the knuckles. Ciro gave a low, pained groan. Ezio kissed his throat, murmuring in sympathy, firm fingers sliding against each other to stretch Ciro.

Ezio withdrew his fingers carefully, pressed the head of his cock against Ciro's tight hole, teasing him without entering. When Ciro was writhing against him, begging, Ezio finally began to take him. Ciro arched, his body tense, making him even tighter. Ezio wrapped an arm around him, burying his face in the crook of the young man's neck, planting soothing kisses. He pressed forward, grunting in pleasure as his cock slid into Ciro's tight hole. Ezio could tell it was hurting – without oil, of course it was - and he pumped Ciro's cock in his fist, coaxing him towards climax, until the young thief forgot the pain. Soon enough Ciro was pushing back to meet Ezio's thrusts, more pleasure than pain in his stifled cries.

Ciro buried his teeth in the sleeve of his shirt as Ezio began to lose control, sliding in and out of him, the motions of his hips sharper, rougher. Then all of a sudden Ezio was over the edge, groaning in delight, coming inside the young thief in long, slow spurts. After that it was easier, and Ezio moved quickly in his own slick come, still hard enough to fuck the younger man firmly until he reached his climax. Ciro gave a choked scream as he came, rocking back against the older man and shuddering helplessly, his eyes tightly shut. Hot come spattered Ezio's hand as Ciro finished.

After, Ezio leaned against Ciro, pressing him against the wall, the muscles in his legs shaking, until their breathing recovered. Then he pulled out gently, and they fixed their clothing, awkward now that the moment was well and truly over.

To Ezio's astonishment, Ciro dropped to one knee. “Please, La Volpe - accept me as your apprentice,” he said. “Teach me to climb the way you do. Let me join the Thieves' Guild.”

And Ezio, feeling like a fool – but a very satisfied and happy fool – had no other answer but to accept.

***

"So. _La Volpe Addormentata_ ," said Ciro, approaching Ezio several days later in a bustling market district of Roma. "I am surprised you didn't take me there earlier, given that it is our headquarters. Guildmaster."

Ezio scratched the back of his neck, let a length of silk on a merchant's stall slide absently through his hand. The day was cloudless, the fabric sun-warmed and shining. "It slipped my mind." 

"Indeed,” said Ciro. He sidled closer, lowering his voice as throngs of citizens passed them, coming and going on their errands. “No matter - I found the place myself."

"Oh." Ezio was starting to sweat. He looked up, peering through the crowd as though trying to find someone. "Ah... Well done. I'm a little busy right now, Ciro."

But the young man was not to be put off. "I drank wine there last night. Didn't see you there."

"I have been busy." Ezio wondered if the crowd was thick enough for him to disappear from this sharp-eyed thief.

"I understand," said Ciro. "Being master of two guilds at once must be very time-consuming."

"Oh, it is," Ezio agreed.

"So time-consuming, that perhaps only a man who could be in more than one place at a time could manage such a feat."

"Well, what can I say?" Ezio shrugged. "You know the stories."

"I know some of them. But I had not heard the one in which La Volpe changes his body, face and voice to those of an entirely different man, forgets ever meeting people, and then attempts to recruit someone who is already a member of his own guild. That one was all new."

"Come now, Ciro," Ezio said, rubbing his forehead. "Don't tell me you've never exaggerated in order to take someone to bed."

Ciro grinned at him. Thankfully, he didn't seem angry - just amused. "Exaggerated, perhaps. But pretending to be the master of the Thieves' Guild? How pathetic.” He gave Ezio a rather pitying look and clapped him on the shoulder. “Farewell, Ezio Auditore – I'm sure our paths will cross in Roma in the future.” He jogged off with an insolent little wave. 

It was only when Ciro's lithe, dark-haired frame had disappeared into the crowd that Ezio - feeling oddly lighter - thought to check for his coin pouch.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Assassin's Creed KinkMeme. Slightly edited from where it appears here: http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1145.html?thread=6040697#cmt6040697


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